


Shirts: Alfie Solomons

by twistedrunes



Series: Shirts [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 19:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15493077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: You and Alfie have known each other since childhood. But now your relationship is a little more complicated and a whole lot sexier.





	Shirts: Alfie Solomons

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Shelby boys (I included Alfie because I can) reaction to coming home and finding you in their shirt.

“What’s up, pup?” The familiar rumble of Alfie Solomons rich voice fills your ear. Even over the phone, you can picture the quirked eyebrow he gave you when he spoke. You groan at his insistence at using the nickname he’d given you when you were both children when Alfie was best mates with your older brother. The older brother you had adored. The older brother you followed around everywhere, like a pup. Thirteen-year-old Alfie and your brother had found this wildly amusing. Alfie still did apparently.

“Hello to you too, Mr Dull-ole-man” You quip back. An insult, which as eleven-year-old you had found amazingly witty and cutting. To be fair, you hadn’t improved on it in the years since.

Alfie chuckles, “Fuck, if that’s isn’t getting truer by the day.” He laments his moniker.

“Something I can help you with Alfie?” You ask lightly ignoring his melancholy. “I’ve got an appointment in fifteen minutes.”

“Right. Yeah.” Alfie clears his throat. You roll your eyes at his discomfort with any reference to your work. “You free on the 20th? Blind Children’s Charity Dinner.” His voice now all business. Your occupation, a source of friction between you for a long time.

“Hold on.” You say flicking your diary to the date in question. “Yeah, that’s fine. You’ll send a car?”

“Yeah, me or Ollie ’ll come get ya. Seven o’clock alright?”

“Perfect.” You respond hesitating, mostly to cause Alfie some discomfort, before continuing “You want the whole night?” You tease.

“Eh, eh.” A noise, a mixture of a laugh and discomfort warms your ear. You can hear the static as Alfie’s fingers work the hair on his chin scratching it against the mouthpiece, picturing the glint in his eye and the cheeky grin on his face. “Yeah, all night.” He pauses briefly to allow you to respond; you stay quiet. “Been a while since we’ve seen each other ain’t it?”

“Too long.” You reply fondly.

**—————————–**

On the surface, the pair of you had a business relationship. You provided Alfie with a companion to attend functions with, someone, pleasant to look at, who could make easy conversation and be witty and delightful on cue. Someone, so he wasn’t alone and at risk of being paired off with any available young Jewish woman within spitting distance. Someone, no one would even consider him having any kind of relationship with, beyond the services people assumed he was paying for. This assumption meaning you would never be considered as a potential target for his enemies. In truth, it was more complicated.

For starters, you never charged Alfie. He’d tried to pay you the first time when he’d picked you up on the side of the road, and you’d ended up in bed together. The combination of grief and familiarity driving you into each other’s arms. 

Back long before you had an established escort business. Back just after the war when you turned tricks on the side of the road to keep food in your belly and a roof over your head. The sharp slap across his face had made it abundantly clear how you had felt about the stack of notes on the bedside when you woke the next morning.

It hadn’t been an accident that he’d found you. He and James had been more than friends, but partners who were working their way up, or down depending on your point of view, the criminal underworld of London. He’d come looking when he came home from France. Knowing you were alone, and that James had been killed not even six months into the war. He had felt compelled to look after his best mates little sister.

He’d tried to employ you in the bakery more than once. Tried to marry you once too. But you’d always been willful and didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. Especially someone like Alfie who in building his empire seemed to be in permanent danger of getting dead. You had looked after yourself during the long years while the war dragged on and the hungry six months after when hardly anyone was willing to pay for sex. When the euphoria that the war was over seemed created a rampant desire in men and women alike causing them all to disregard any notion of how ‘nice’ people behaved.

 **—————————–**  

On the nineteenth, you are not surprised when a package is delivered to your house. Alfie always sent you clothes to wear when you escorted him. Often jewellery and other accessories as well. Not surprised but still excited, you hurry it to the kitchen table before ripping off the brown paper. You sigh happily as you pull the beautiful gown from the box. As always far more demure than anything you would typically wear, but it was still stunning. Deep burgundy satin embroidered with what must have been thousands of beads and sequins, it was high necked, full length with capped sleeves. Beautiful but still appropriate enough to wear in front of Alfie’s conservative acquaintances. A row of jewel-like buttons ran down the back, from the top of the neck to the bottom of the bodice. You made a mental note to allow more time for dressing; such fiddly fastenings were going to take time.

Gifts of friendship Alfie called them. The dresses, jewellery, perfumes and other trinkets he brought you when you escorted him. You had pointed out to him on more than one occasion that the gifts far exceeded what you would charge for an evening or even overnight. 

The first gift of friendship had arrived the day after you had slapped him for trying to pay you. A basket of bread and an assortment of fruit, vegetables and meat along with milk and cheese. Apparently impossible to get, unless it seemed you were Alfie Solomons. A gift that had been delivered weekly for the three months following. A gift you weren't too proud to admit had kept the wolves from the door and you from starving to death. Over the years as starvation became less of a risk and Alfie’s empire grew the gifts became less practical and more lavish.

 **—————————–**  

“So you coming back to mine?” Alfie asks as he holds open the car door.

“I booked out the night for you as we agreed.” You tease.

“Well thank you, sweetie. Very kind of you that is. I know how in demand you are.” He teases back.

You slide over and tuck yourself under his arm as he starts the car, enjoying the familiar comfort of his touch. “I’ll always make time for you Alfie.”

Alfie smiles at you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, before pulling you more tightly against him. “Thanks for coming tonight. It wasn’t too boring was it?” He asks.

“No, I mean I could listen to Mrs March talk about moral decay for hours.” You say with an exaggerated groan and eye roll, as you slip your shoes off, tucking your feet up under you.

You choose not to tell him about the snide comments directed at yourself and him whenever he was out of earshot. It had taken all of your strength not to punch the two-faced women happy enough to take Alfie’s considerable donations but still not willing to see him as anything beyond a murderous gangster. You had never known the supposedly violent and unstable man Alfie was rumoured to be. With you, he had only ever been kind and gentle. Pup the closest thing to an unkind word ever to pass his lips. You weren’t stupid you knew the rumours and probably more were true, but you knew he was much more.

Alfie chuckles “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that pup. But business innit.”

“Such interesting things she told me,” You say your voice light, your hand brushing against his chest.

“Mm, like what?” Alfie replies cautiously, wondering where this was going.

“Well, did you know Alf, that cars are a leading cause of corruption in today’s society?”

Alfie snorts “And how’s that then?”

“Well all these fancy young men with their flashy cars, go out and pick up ladies of the night.” You grin, slipping your hand along the inside of Alfie’s thigh and up to his crotch, palming over the firmness already there. “Sometimes they even have sex with them in their cars.” You look up at him, eyes wide in mock shock.

“Is that so?” Alfie muses, his fingers caressing your hip.

“Yep.” You say popping the fastenings on his pants and guiding him free of his boxers. “Mm.” You hum in satisfaction at how quickly he hardens in your hand as you fondle him.

“Careful, love. Don’t want us crashing into a tree do ya?” Alfie’s says his voice heavy.

You reposition yourself and flick your tongue over the head of his cock.

“Sweetie, please.” Alfie sighs, his fingers pulling the combs holding your hair in place free, causing your hair to tumble around your face.

“Okay.” You say, moving as if to stop, but instead, you open your mouth and take him completely.

Alfie’s hips buck with a cry of “Fuck!” His hand plunging into your hair, fingers curling, pulling the silken tresses into his palm.

You swallow. Alfie tugs at your hair in a half-hearted attempt at getting you to stop. You simply allow him to pull you up, you hollow your cheeks, before teasing your tongue over the tip. Eliciting a low growl from somewhere in Alfie’s chest, which continues as you slide back down his length.  

From this angle you can’t take him completely, so you wrap your hand around him, caressing the parts of him you can’t take in your mouth. You bob your head, sucking and slurping happily. Alfie’s hand continues working in your hair, alternating between caressing your neck with his fingertips and gently pulling your hair. An action guaranteed to make you moan. In your periphery, you can see his hand on the steering wheel, knuckles white with the effort of concentration. You begin to bob faster, creating more suction with your mouth as you do so. Your hand slides down, fingertips caressing his balls. You feel them tighten and Alfie’s back start to arch. You stop. “Wait.” You instruct.

“No,” Alfie says firmly, pulling the car over to the verge and breaking hard. You nearly slide off the seat, but Alfie catches you. Holding you under your arms as he pulls you into his lap, with your back to his chest. He reefs your skirt up, his hands fly to your hips, expecting to find underwear to remove; finding nothing, he groans a string of curses and praises. His hand slides between your legs. You’re already wanting, his fingers finding your wetness easily. He eagerly spreads you, your head dropping back as he finds your clit.

Using the steering wheel for support you lift yourself, resting your shins on the seat, parallel with Alfie’s thighs for leverage. Alfie’s fingers explore you again before he rubs himself against you. Sighing as he glides over you easily. You lower yourself slightly as he presses against your entrance. You both grunt as he pushes into you. You moan happily as you rock your hips feeling him open you. Both of you stay still for a moment, enjoying the sensation.

Alfie’s arm wraps under your arm, fingers grazing your throat, holding you against him as he thrusts up into you, setting a steady rhythm. You lean back against him, shivering as his beard scratches against your neck. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips caress the skin above the high collar of the dress. You arch your back as his hands come to your breasts, engulfing them. He mutters slightly at their constriction in the dress but hums in pleasure as your nipples harden against his palms, straining against the fabric. 

Your hand rises to the back of his neck, fingers grabbing handfuls of hair. You can feel the pressure building in you, hips lifting in your own rhythm. Alfie adjusts, matching you, his hand sliding down your front to between your legs. The coolness of the metal on his fingers and wrist shock you as he begins rubbing your clit in time with your thrusts. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you peak. You fall forward as you crash through your orgasm, hands gripping the steering wheel. Alfie’s hands grab your hips as he thrusts into you, your tightening walls pulling his own orgasm from him.

Alfie holds you back against his chest kissing your cheek “Been too fucking long.” He says as he lifts you off him. You moan a little as he slides out of you. He settles you back on the seat, and you shuffle to pull your dress back down. Alfie watches, chewing on his bottom lip. “You been a bit hard up love?” He asks as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “Can’t afford knickers.” He teases.

You turn to face him, hand cupping his cheek and smoothing his beard “Figured they’d just slow things down.”

Alfie’s eyes sparkle as he tucks himself away, giving only a little nod that he had heard you. He starts the car and pulls back onto the road, his arm holding you against him for the duration of the trip home.

 **—————————–**  

“For fuck’s sake!” Alfie cries fingers fumbling with the delicate buttons on the back of your dress.

You can’t help but laugh seeing the frustration on his face in the mirror in front of you. “Well, you chose it.”

“A fucking mistake an’ all. It’s not a fucking dress, is it? Fucking chastity belt it is. Should come with a fucking warning; the man with the woman wearing this dress will die of fucking blue balls before he can fucking get it off ‘er.” He rants.

You laugh harder, you hand reaching up behind you to find only four of the buttons undone. “We managed without taking it off before.” You say turning and running your hand over his naked chest. Your lips finding his collarbone.

“Yeah well, that’s all fucking good in the fucking car. But now I need those beautiful tits of yours out so I can give ‘em the attention they deserve right?” He turns you, attempting the next button again. You’re still laughing, so the button slips through his fingers. “And you can stop laughing an’ all” he grunts. You attempt to turn around again “Fucking stand still.” He roars, grabbing your waist and lifting you from the floor, propelling you to the bed. He tosses you onto the mattress face down. He climbs on top of you, straddling your hips holding you in place. He continues struggling with the buttons for another minute. Before, with a roar of frustration, he grabs the two sides ripping them apart. Buttons fly around the room like machine gun fire, pinging off all the surfaces and scuttling across the timber floor.

“Alfie!” You cry into the mattress.

“Well, that’s, that then.” He says standing again and flipping you onto your back before peeling the fabric down your torso to your waist, slipping it down over your hips. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight of your bare chest, skimming his fingers over you. Before returning his attention to his nemesis, grabbing handfuls of the skirt, he whips it down your legs and tosses the entire thing in the corner. He nods in satisfaction pushing his pants and boxers to his ankles. “Now that’s fucking better innit?” He says rubbing his cock as his eyes run over you wolfishly.

“Alfie!” You say crossly, sitting up, hands behind you for support. “You’ve destroyed that dress. How the hell will I get home tomorrow? I’ll be fucking arrested!”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that love,” he says fingers running along your jaw as he trails off, skimming his fingers down your neck to your chest, pushing you gently back against the mattress. He positions himself above you, kissing you tenderly, his mouth working along your jaw, down your neck, continuing over your chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth.

“Fuck.” You cry as the sensation travels through you like a bolt of lightning.

You feel Alfie smile against you, his hand kneading one breast while his mouth works the other. He swaps over after a minute, his beard reddening your chest as he continues. Your fingers work into his hair and scratch at his back as he continues. “Alfie,” you moan reaching for his cock.

“Wait,” He grunts, removing his mouth only long enough to issue the instruction. But he changes position slightly and trails his hand between your thighs. Your back arches, wantonly forcing his hand in contact with you. He keeps his hand obstinately still. Your hand rests over his, guiding his fingers where you want them. Alfie lifts his head, meeting your eye. “Sorry, love I’m no good with buttons.” He says, smirking and eyes flashing as he presses his palm to the mattress between your legs.

Your head rolls back as you groan. “Bastard.” You grumble with a laugh. You press against his muscled forearm searching for stimulation. Alfie moves his arm just enough so it’s not touching you, smirking as he returns his attention to your breasts. Your nipples are bullets, each nip, flick or squeeze travelling directly between your legs. Need drives your hand between your legs, quickly falling into a familiar rhythm.

Feeling your arm bumping against him as you play with yourself, Alfie lifts his face from your chest watching you. His hand still caressing your breasts and nipples. “That’s a fucking sight for sore eyes that is.” He says, tongue skating over his lips as he watches you. “You tell me when you’re close love, right?” he says brushing the hair from your face.

It doesn’t take long. “Alfie,” You moan feeling yourself racing towards your release.

Alfie kneels between your legs, pulling your ass up his thighs and guiding himself into you. Unintelligible words flowing from your mouth as he fills you. His hands return to your breasts twisting the nipples as he thrusts and you rub at yourself desperately. A final tweak is all it takes and you cum, screaming Alfie’s name. Alfie’s thrusts increase as he fucks you through your orgasm. Not stopping as you go limp, his hands leaving marks on your hips as he searches for his own release. Knowing what he needs you take your breasts in your own hands, kneading them and tugging at the nipples. Alfie grunts in appreciation. You cum again as he does.

Exhausted and spent you lay together, hands caressing each other until sleep takes you.

 **—————————–**  

You hiss as the rough fabric of Alfie’s shirt grates over your nipple. Still raw from last night the stimulation skating the razor-thin line between pleasure and pain. You can feel the heat growing between your legs.  

“Sweetie?” You hear Alfie padding down the hall, the soft sound of his feet meaning he’s not wearing any shoes. “Have you seen me,” You look over your shoulder as he reaches the doorway “shirt.” He finishes, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his bare chest, trousers hanging loosely on his hips. As he takes the sight of you in, he cocks his eyebrow, and a broad smile becomes visible through his beard. 

“Well, I had nothing else, you ruined my dress!” you say indignantly turning back to the tea preparations.

You hear Alfie grunt behind you, then his soft footsteps as he crosses the room to you. “Wasn’t complaining love.” He says, nuzzling your hair from your neck before placing a gentle kiss where your neck meets your shoulder. “Probably the best that shirt’s ever looked.” He comments, his hands tugging the hem up, before slipping his hands under the fabric and over the soft skin of your stomach.

You turn your head, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Well, I gotta say I prefer you without it.” You tease.

Alfie presses his teeth lightly against your neck, another smile causing you to shiver as his beard tickles the sensitive skin of your neck. Alfie’s arms wrap around you comfortingly. He breathes deeply. “But now you smell like me.” He sighs.

“I like it.” You say resting your cheek against his head.

“It’s not doing much for me, love. I can tell ya. I know what I smell like, and I much prefer your delectable scent. Think we best do something about it.”

“Yeah, like what?” You retort.

“Only thing we can do.” He says scooping you up “Wash it off.” He says striding down the hall towards the stairs.

 

In the bathroom he sets you down and turns on the shower, running his hand through the stream of water testing it and adjusting it until he is happy with the temperature. Returning his attention to you, he whips the shirt over your head and guides you under the water. Before settling himself on the edge of the bath watching you.

“What are you doing Alf?” You ask.

“Watching.” He says happily, eyes travelling down your body and up again.

“Really?” you ask eyebrows raised. “Cause I’m not keen to wash the smell of you off. So if you want it gone you’re gonna have to do it yourself, right.”

“Really?” Alfie says with a shrug, standing and dropping his pants, his cock bouncing happily as he takes the few steps to the shower. “That’s the way it is. Innit. Want something done properly gotta do it yourself.” He says, hands resting on your waist as he pushes you back under the water. He follows before pulling you to him, holding you as the water cascades over you both.

You rest your forehead against his chest, your hands rubbing over his back and shoulders appreciatively. Alfie’s hand comes to your cheek, tilting your head so he can kiss you. He’s gentle at first, before using his lips to part yours and sliding his tongue between them. Your fingers grip his shoulders as you push yourself against him. His cock hot against your stomach as your bodies glide against each other.

Alfie pulls back. “Hair first.” He says guiding you out from under the water as he pours shampoo into his hand, spreading it onto your hair and working it into a lather. His strong fingers massage your scalp and rake through your hair. Your hand rises to the tiles for support. Tipping your head back, he tilts the shower head to rinse your hair. Once finished Alfie’s hands slide down your arms, as he kisses across your shoulders, his fingers entwining with yours. “God, you’re delicious.” He sighs happily before picking up the conditioner. He repeats the process, mouth finding your neck and shoulders as he washes the residue away.

Turning you run your fingers through Alfie’s beard. “Your turn.” You say.

Alfie smirks, stepping back out of the water and dropping to his knees “So you can reach.” He says. You nod and pour shampoo into your palm, smoothing it over his hair. Alfie’s hands grab your ass, kneading the flesh as he pulls you closer. Reaching behind you, he grabs the bar of soap and begins lathering your lower back and ass. You continue working his hair, massaging his scalp, your fingers working down onto his neck and shoulders. Alfie groans appreciatively against your stomach, sucking the skin. You press your hand to his shoulder to steady yourself. Alfie’s hands slide down your legs, the soap making your skin slick.

Lifting Alfie’s chin, you reach above you to direct the shower head, brushing your hands over his hair to rinse it. Water pools where his chest meets your hips. He leans back allowing the water to flow down rinsing you. You lean forward as Alfie rinses the backs of your legs and ass free of suds. Alfie’s mouth works its way from one hip to the other while you condition his hair, again massaging his scalp, neck and shoulders.

Finished with his hair, you try to guide him up. Alfie shakes his head, wiping his hand over his mouth causing a small cascade of water to fall from his beard. He pushes you back against the wall, before lifting your leg and hanging it over his shoulder. He smiles at the sight before him, before he kisses his way up your thigh. He rubs a soapy hand over you, careful not to get soap anywhere he shouldn’t. After rinsing you off, he pauses for only a moment to catch your eye, before swiping his tongue over your sex. Your fingers instantly clutch at the hair at the back of his head. Alfie chuckles against you “Clean enough to eat off.” He sniggers earning himself a clip over the ear.

Nodding contritely, he runs his tongue along your slit. You rake your fingers over his shoulder, sucking your breath between your teeth. Alfie licks again, parting you slightly, your clit is already throbbing before he even touches it. “Say you don’t do buttons Alfie and you’ll have a horrible accident.” You warn him breathlessly.

Alfie laughs “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” He says eyes dancing. You glare at him. Alfie’s thumb caresses your hip. “Don’t worry love; I’ll redeem myself. I promise.” He says plunging his tongue into you, circling your clit as he sucks it between his plump, warm lips.

“Fuck.” You gasp, eyes closing as your hips rock against Alfie’s mouth. Your eyes fly open as a finger penetrates you, your hand squeaking over the tiles. Your mind seems unable to focus on anything other than the sensations between your legs as Alfie works you slowly, finger curling. “Alfie.” You pant.

“Mm,” He hums against you.

“Fuck!” You cry again, fingers clawing at his neck and shoulders as Alfie inserts another finger into you, this time pressing the pads of his fingers firmly against your spot. You start to slide down the wall. Alfie’s free hand pinning your hip to the wall without breaking his rhythm. “Fuck!” You scream as the waves of pleasure break over you. Your cries echoing around the hard surfaces.

Alfie guides your thigh from his shoulder, body pressing against yours for support as he kisses you. The taste of yourself on his tongue sending another shudder through you. “You okay sweetie?” Alfie asks, hand skimming over your breast, the roughness of his palm causing you to shudder again. Your hands fly to his shoulders for support. Alfie pulls you back under the water the two of you holding each other as the warm water flows over you.

Recovering, you run your fingers through his beard “Better clean you up.” You offer, meeting his gaze “Soap or Shampoo?”

“Shampoo love, then conditioner or it’ll go all prickly yeah. Not nice apparently.” He says with a playful wink.

You work from his cheeks down his neck, before carefully working a lather on his chin and around his mouth to his moustache. Alfie rinses himself before you use the conditioner. He rinses again and kisses you. You soap up his chest, fingers tracing the tattoos and scars littering his skin as they are revealed to you as the suds wash away. Slipping behind him, you repeat the process on his back, kissing across his shoulders and down his spine, fingers finding and tracing each mark on his skin. You remember back when you first slept together, before the war, when only a few tattoos marked his skin, and there were considerably fewer scars. Alfie reaches behind him, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you back in front of him. You trace the scar along his jaw, watching him, wondering how it was the whole world saw him so differently to how you did. 

Alfie’s hand comes to your jaw, his thumb playing over your lips before parting them. He presses his lips to yours, taking them hungrily.

Sliding out of his grasp, you drop to your knees, soap in hand. You hold his eye while you lather his legs, reaching around him and giving his ass a little squeeze as you soap him up. Your hands roam his thighs enjoying the feel of his muscles, before gently caressing his balls and shaft. You stop, smirking as you kiss his stomach and rinse him down. Alfie groans as you cup your breasts gliding them along his length. Alfie’s hand slaps against the tiles. “Fuck sweetie; you’ll be wearing pearls if you do that again.” You repeat the process and as promised Alfie’s hips buck as he cums on your chest. “Sorry, love.” He says as he regathers himself. “Ya just too fuckin’ beautiful.”

You lean back against the tiles, so the water doesn’t wash you clean. Spreading his cum over your breasts before scooping some up on your finger and licking it off. Alfie groans again and pulls you back to him. He rubs the soap over your chest, paying careful attention to your breasts and throat. As he rinses you down, you both notice the water becoming cooler.

Alfie turns the taps off and grabs a towel, wrapping you up in one and wrapping another around his waist. He sits you on the edge of the bath and towels your hair. Finishing with your hair, he kisses your neck. “Don’t know about you, love, but I could do with a little lie-down. Whad’ya say?”

 **—————————–**  

Hours later, you rollover half asleep aware that Alfie’s presence is missing from the bed. Bleary-eyed you notice him sitting on a chair next to the dresser. Bare-chested with burgundy fabric piled in his lap, a pile of glittering buttons on in front of him and needle and thread in hand. His glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he works. A constant string of curses falling from his lips as he wrangles the fabric and buttons. A tiny giggle escapes you.

Turning towards the noise, Alfie drops his chin regarding you over the top of his glasses, “What’s so funny?” He asks dryly.

“Oh, nothing just the big tough gangster doing his needlework.” You chuckle.

“See that’s the thing innit love. No-one will ever fuckin’ believe ya. Will they?”


End file.
